by Rita Herron
"Yes, cooking relaxes me." He handed her his business card. "By the way, my name is Dr. Jonathan Ramsey."
Jenna studied the embossed lettering. "You're a plastic surgeon?"
"The best." His gaze skated over her. "I specialize in breasts but I also do noses. You should come for a consultation."
"What's wrong with my nose?" Jenna asked, running her hand over the small curved tip.
"Nothing," he said soothingly. "But I could make you look like anybody you choose. A famous movie star or model." He traced her jaw with his perfectly manicured nails, his finely trimmed eyebrows almost an art form above eyes that were pointedly scrutinizing her features. "And with your nice cheekbones, we could dip your chin a fraction—"
"I like my face the way it is," Jenna said, her spine stiffening. "And I don't care to look like a movie star."
He looked chastised. "I didn't mean to offend you, Miss—"
"Barrett." Jenna realized she might be oversensitive, but if he wanted someone perfect, she didn't fit the bill, especially with her hearing impairment.
Carol saved the moment by walking up and introducing a friend of hers. The man delved into a story about golfing that she found totally boring, but Carol hung on his every word. Perhaps Carol had found her soulmate. If so, more power to her, Jenna thought, eyeing a group of women clustered in one corner.After a polite "excuse me," she began to mingle through the crowd. She met several businessmen, a few she recognized from her small business association, and a professor of animal behavior who wanted to elaborate on the mating habits of some near-extinct species of ape from South Africa.
"You should visit my laboratory," he said, rubbing a hand over his inch long graying beard. "You might find the mating ritual interesting. I'm going to be taking notes—"
"I... I have to go to the restroom," she said, begging away before he could drone on.
"These parties can be a drag," a broad-shouldered blond-haired man said, sidling up to her when she'd finally escaped and grabbed a seat in the corner. "Except the food is marvelous. You know the students actually prepare the appetizers."
"Really?" Finally someone who wanted to discuss cooking.
His dark brown eyes flitted over her appreciatively, and she flushed, grateful she'd chosen a sleek black dress that flattered her figure. This guy was sexy as all get out. He had a body to die for, big broad shoulders, and he was a few inches taller than her, but not as tall as Zack... darn it, why was she comparing him to Zachary West? Maybe because his blond hair reminded her of Zack?
She shook off Zack's image, then watched the man as he filled a mug with cappuccino. His jaw was square, his skin tanned, he had muscular pecs and wore jeans that fit him in all the right places. He introduced himself as Rip Romero. Flashy name, but what the hell. Nobody was perfect.
Then he gave her a charming grin full of raw sex appeal. What a looker. He must be heavy into workouts. Maybe he could make her forget Zack.
"My Chinese cooking class made those won tons," he said, biting into one of the appetizers. "And I enrolled in a dessert class that prepared the pastries back there." He pointed to a tray of glazed apricot bars that looked divine.
"I'm impressed," Jenna said. "Have you signed up for more lessons?"
"I'm trying the Thai class and cake decorating next."
"Oh, I'm taking the Thai class, too."
"Hmm. Maybe we can share ovens."
Jenna shifted uncomfortably at the double meaning, her heart pounding when he wedged closer to her. They chatted for several minutes about the different menus and instructors. Finally, he asked about her job and she told him about the boutique.
His dark eyes lit up. "So, you carry lingerie?"
"Yes, gift items for both men and women." Jenna stared at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Not half as exciting as it had been to kiss Zack.
Irritated with herself, she sighed in disgust. She had to erase Zachary West from her mind. What better way than being here with this stud?
"I'd like to come by your store," Rip said. "I'm always looking for accessories for work."
Jenna arched an eyebrow, wondering what he meant, but she removed a business card from her purse. "I'm open nine to six during the week, I close at five on Saturdays."
"Love 'N Lace," he said, reading the card. "This sounds interesting. I can't wait to see your merchandise."
She shifted. Another double entendre that made her feel uncomfortable. "What... is it you do, Mr. Romero?"
"I'm a performer." He leaned toward her, the scent of his musky cologne filling her nostrils. Jenna took a step back, put off by the strong odor.
Still, she willed herself to feel some attraction for the man. To have some physical reaction.
But nothing happened. Not even a stirring in her belly.
How depressing. She bit into one of the glazed apricot bars, but her mind strayed to the chocolate dessert she'd shared with Zack.
"I have several different costumes I wear for my show—"
His comment jerked her gaze up. "Your show?"
He nodded. "You haven't heard of my act?" He wiggled his hips in a bump and grind routine. "I'm an exotic dancer."
Jenna gulped. For God's sake, he was a stripper, not husband material.
"Sometimes I dress like a cop, sometimes a cowboy, a genie, whatever turns the crowd on. But I really need some new g-strings. My others are worn out." He narrowed his eyes. "Do you carry leather?"
Jenna nodded, her mind spinning as she imagined him pole dancing. Then he gave her a seductive look, and she forced a tight smile beyond lips that were suddenly glued together.
She was looking for a husband, a stable man who would make a good father. How could she possibly tell her child that she serviced her husband with sexy lingerie so other women could stuff dollar bills inside his underwear?
And then there was her family—she'd break her back picking her sweet, cookie-baking mother up off the floor from a massive coronary if she brought a stripper home for Sunday dinner. Her brother would deck him with a hammer, and her father... the man wouldn't need a g-string when he finished with him.
So much for meeting Mr. Right at the cooking club. She'd definitely lost her appetite. She headed to the sign-up board and crossed her name off the list.
* * *
Zack struggled with a new ad campaign for Jenna's store all night, fighting the impulse to call her. He couldn't concentrate for wondering if she was out interviewing more husband candidates or maybe even gallivanting around with some testosterone-laden jerk.
You should talk, man. You almost attacked her right in front of her store.
He released a self-deprecating sigh, his pencil automatically sketching a picture of Jenna wearing the outfit she'd been draping over her mannequin. He scratched his temple, contemplating a slogan. Hmm, Love 'N Lace—his fingers began a life of their own and before he realized what he'd drawn, he found himself staring at a spider spinning an elaborate silken web.
Jenna was like that spider. She was pulling him into some strange spell, enticing him with sweet looks and green eyes that were so hypnotic he couldn't escape. He was getting tangled in the sensual web she'd spun...
He muttered a curse and crumpled the paper in his hands, the silken web—it was a trap.Maybe he did feel caught in it, but Jenna obviously didn't. Besides, his feelings for her were just lust. A simple, natural, very hot, intense physical attraction that had not been sated. She obviously didn't feel it or she wouldn't keep hunting for a husband.
No, he had to get back to business. And a spider web certainly wouldn't be appropriate for her ad—she wanted something romantic.
Just what did women find romantic?
All the old clichés came to mind—flowers, diamonds, romantic cards, and weddings... oh, yeah, women loved those damned weddings. His stomach knotted when he thought about tying the knot, but he had a job to do.
Still, his hand trembled as he picked up his pencil and began to sketch.
* * *
"You did it!" Angel shrieked. "You're adding maternity lingerie to the store."
Jenna hugged her. "I wanted it to be a surprise."
Angel's eyes teared. "You did it just for me?"
"You definitely were my inspiration," Jenna said. "But I've been considering it for a while. My sister-in-law is pregnant, too. Besides we already have the bridal registry. Once the romance heats up, a baby is the next natural step."
"You really want a baby of your own, don't you, Jen?" Angel asked, her hand automatically going to the soft mound of her belly.
"Yeah, my biological clock is ticking," Jenna admitted softly. She removed several maternity gowns and a pair of white lacy baby booties from one of the boxes.
Angel examined the tiny crocheted bootie. "It's precious. I can't wait to dress my little one in these adorable clothes."
The two of them oohed and aahed as they unloaded several boxes of baby items, a selection of silky nursing gowns that were not only serviceable but attractive, and a couple of white eyelet christening gowns that brought tears to both of their eyes.
"You're in charge of the display." Jenna pointed to the far right corner where the chenille robes hung, the ones Zack had chosen from on his first visit. "Let's set up that corner as a mother/baby section."
"Great idea," Angel said. "Maybe we can finish it before we open today."
Jenna glanced at the clock. "Maybe. If not, I'll work the floor while you add the final touches."
Angel used a yellow teddy bear and several eyelet pillows connected by ribbons to look like balloons as a centerpiece for the table. "Do you have class tonight?"
Jenna shook her head.
"A date?" Angel gave her a hopeful smile.
"Nope."
"You're not seeing that sexy advertising hunk?"
"Definitely not. He runs at the mention of the word marriage. Heck, he broke out in a rash from just kissing me."
Angel wrinkled her nose. "That's too bad. I thought the two of you had real chemistry."
"Chemistry yes. But a future, no." Jenna frowned, troubled by the thought. "I think I'll stay late and work on a Christmas display. We just got in those red and white pieces I ordered. People will start their Christmas shopping soon."
Angel patted her stomach. "I can't wait to play Mrs. Santa Claus this year."
Jenna yanked a Santa hat from another box, then placed it on Angel's head. "Okay, but next year it's going to be my turn."
At least she hoped it would. But her prospects were looking slim. Her chest clenched.
She just might have to accept the fact that there was no husband out there for her.
That she was meant to be alone forever.
* * *
Zack finished work on the Plum chewing gum campaign, met with a car dealer and discussed ads for the new year, checked out several billboards advertising a new long distance telephone service, picked up samples of the laundry detergent he was supposed to write about, then swung by Jenna's, hoping her store would be closing and he could show her the new sketches without a dozen interruptions. Not that he wanted to be alone with her, exactly, but they could talk more easily if customers weren't vying for her time.
But he realized instantly he'd made a mistake in waiting.
The store was empty, except for Jenna, and when he peeked inside the frosty window, she was hanging red and white garters, lacy baby booties, and heart-shaped sachets on a small Christmas tree. Silk boxers decorated with candy canes, elves, and strings of colorful lights lay on a table near her, while Michael Buble's Christmas album played in the background.
His gut tightened.
When he entered, she continued singing along, and he realized she hadn't heard him. Not wanting to startle her, he cleared his throat.
She whirled around, her eyes luminous with surprise, as if he'd caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. Instead of cookies, she held an assortment of Christmas candles that smelled of cinnamon and spice. His mouth watered.
"Hi. I didn't hear you come in."
He nodded, then gestured at the new displays. "You've been busy."
"'Tis the season," she said with a bright smile.
The memory of the kiss and the way it ended taunted him.
"Look, Jenna, about last time—"
"Don't, Zack." She shook her head, tendrils of her hair floating softly around her cheeks. "Let's just forget it, and stick to business."
He shifted on the balls of his feet. "Fine. Business it is. I brought some more sketches for you look at."
She positioned the red and green candles, alternating them with white ones that were shaped like snow globes. "Great. I'll be finished in a sec." She gestured to the coffeepot behind the counter. "There's fresh coffee if you want."
He strode to the table, laid his artist's portfolio on the counter and poured himself a cup simply to have something to do with his hands. She continued working on the display, her next addition a stack of red crotchless panties. He gulped his coffee and yelped when he burned his tongue.
She looked up at him and grinned. "Sorry, I should have warned you, it's hot."
He nodded, welcoming the pain, anything to distract him from the image of Jenna wearing the panties she'd just displayed. "I see you added a maternity corner," he said, biting his lip when he realized he was staring at a mannequin dressed in the oversized nightgown and actually admiring her gently rounded belly.
"Yes, Angel and I have discussed it for a while. Our clientele includes brides-to-be, and we have a bridal registry. The women shop for honeymoons and anniversaries. But I wanted to expand so they can find merchandise for all occasions."
"Smart decision," he said.
She narrowed her eyes as if she was trying to tell if he was sincere and he grinned. "Mark said you had a knack for business."
Her lips curled upward. "Thanks. Hopefully my degree was worth it. Besides," she paused with a sly smile," pregnant women deserve to feel sexy and beautiful."
A tiny jingle bell tingled and he stared at her hand, swallowing more coffee when he noticed where the bell was attached—to the front of a pair of men's green Christmas thongs.
He suddenly envisioned wearing them for her, then her taking them off, and his body hardened.
Don't go there, man. Sex can lead to marriage and babies.
She added the finishing touches to her display by placing several decorative bottles of soaps and perfumes in between the lacy garments. "How's your advertising agency going?"
"Good," he said. "I've added a couple of new accounts this week."
Jenna nodded, then stepped back to scrutinize the display. "Do you do portraits or paint on the side?"
He'd actually like to paint her - nude. But he bit back the comment. "I dabble in some abstracts. And I enjoy working in charcoal."
She added a bedside lamp in the middle of the table, locked the store door, flipped the Open sign to Closed and pulled the shades, then turned to him. "Okay, now let's take a look at your sketches."
He unfolded his drawing pad on the counter and realized he was holding his breath, silently hoping for her approval as she studied his work.
"Ahh, these are much closer to what I had in mind," she said, pointing to the first drawing—a sketch emphasizing the lace-draped table hosting the bridal registry.
Their heads touched as they leaned over the sketchpad, and when she spotted the couple shadowed by moonlight, their hands extended, fingers barely touching over a candlelit dinner with a wedding ring floating in a glass of champagne, she gasped in delight. "Yes, this is nice, romantic, sensual, just the look I'm aiming for."
He'd drawn a series depicting the progression of a budding romance, starting with a couple in satin lounging attire cuddled around a fireplace. With each scene, the mood escalated and the lingerie became more provocative. The last picture showcased a bride wearing a long train as she marched down the aisle. Although the couple's faces were mere outlines, he realized how closely the wom
an's profile resembled Jenna.
"These are lovely," Jenna said a little breathlessly.
The sultry music in the background made Zack's libido kick up, heightening his awareness of the erotic atmosphere in the boutique.
"You really are talented, Zack," Jenna said as her gaze lingered on the second picture in the series. The man looked rugged and tough, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt with the top button open, his female companion in a long, white gauzy dress that swirled around her ankles in the breeze as they danced in the moonlight. Only the hint of a sheer camisole peeked from her blouse and the man held her in a clinched pose. It reminded her of a seductive pose on the cover of a romance novel.
Jenna's breath whispered out in a soft sigh of appreciation, and Jack's chest puffed with pride.
Then she turned and paused again at the rough sketch of a man on bended knee proposing to a woman wearing one of the black bodystockings she had in the store. The woman was brushing her lover's cheek with a rose. "This is beautiful, absolutely beautiful," she said in a whisper.
He jammed his hands into his pockets. "I haven't finalized the slogan yet, but I have a couple of ideas."
Her gaze locked with his. "Do you want to run them by me now?"
"I'd rather wait until I've narrowed them down," he said, suddenly drawn to the way the dimming light filtering in from the outside shadowed her face. The sun had set and the haze of early evening had started to turn into night.
As an artist he appreciated the nuances of oranges and yellows and reds fading into a smoky gray. A smoky gray that simmered with heat and the hint of romance.
As a man, he simply wanted her.
The air around them crackled with awareness, with the silent hunger he tried so hard to ignore. But it was burning a hole in his belly, and it was all he could do to keep his hands from reaching for her.
"I'm confident the slogan will be a winner," she said, her voice husky.
"You make it easy." He paused when she arched an eyebrow. "With all this sexy merchandise, how could I go wrong?"
"Thanks," she said softly. "I enjoy choosing the items in the store personally and try to be selective."
"Are you as selective with your husband hunt?" Damn it, the comment just slipped out.
